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Kalei Kahue paced the floor of his office, patting his forehead with a handkerchief while holding a phone receiver to his ear.
“No, Mrs. Chestnut, there won’t be any more drama like last night. I promise. I have dealt with the situation.”
Ron stood in the doorway, leaning up against the edge of the frame. His head hung from his shoulders like an anchor, but he managed to peer up, watching the director’s erratic movements.
We did this, he thought.
“I know. She said a lot of things. But can you trust the words of a person like that? I don’t think so.”
Kalei waved at Ron, gesturing towards a chair in front of the desk, then turned to the side, closing his eyes. Ron came in and sat down.
“Thank you, Mrs. Chestnut. I appreciate that very much. Goodbye, now.”
He put the receiver down and released a heavy sigh.
“Putting out fires, I see,” Ron said.
“You have no idea.”
The director collapsed into his chair and looked at Ron. His eyes glistened with sadness. Or weariness. Ron couldn’t tell for sure.
“I’m sorry for all the trouble,” Ron said.
“Ron, you don’t have to apologize for what your soon-to-be x-wife has done. And if I have anything to say about it, she will not jeopardize your chances of getting that money you’re entitled to from your inheritance. My secretary is drafting a letter to Barkley & Associates. It will state that you put forth significant efforts to mend your marriage and that Jessica refused to cooperate. It should satisfy the conditions of the will such that you receive the full ten million.”
Ron’s chest and neck tightened. He should have felt relieved. Even ecstatic. But Jessica getting nothing?
Why do I care? he thought.
“She left you a letter,” Kalei said.
“What do you mean ‘left’?”
“Oh, you don’t know? She’s gone.”
The tightness turned to a sharp pang, and Ron’s eyebrows furrowed.
“Gone?”
“She came in very early this morning. Insisted on being removed from the island. We don’t normally do that kind of thing, but considering the trouble she has caused while here, I was more than happy to oblige her.”
“How did you get her off the island?”
“We have a cargo boat that comes here from the mainland once a week to bring in supplies. As luck would have it, they came this morning and were just about to leave when she showed up in my office.”
Kalei pushed an envelope across the desk with Ron’s name on it, written in Jessica’s hand. Ron picked it up, and a lump formed in his throat. He opened it up, unfolded it, and read.
“Dear Ron,
During my stay on this island, I connected with one core truth about myself in all of my mischief. I need to be free. Free to do what I want with my body. Free to choose for myself.
In the middle of that epiphany, I understood why you want to get as far from me as you can. You are not free. As long as I am in your life, you will feel imprisoned by my sexual power. That is why you want the money. That is why you want to leave Los Angeles. Well, you don’t have to.
I am enclosing a letter taking full responsibility for the failure of our marriage. You should be able to give that to the attorney and get your money. I’m also putting the house on the market. When it sells, I’ll give you the equity. I’m going to move out of the city. Erika will probably want to keep me on board and open a new market wherever I land, but if she doesn’t, I’ll be OK. As you know, I’m a survivor.
Thank you for the memories. You were the closest I ever got to feeling loved as I am. For that, I will always love you.
Affectionately, Jessica.”
Ron thumbed the other letter tucked in the envelope, staring at it while he wiped his mouth.
“I can only imagine what she said in that letter. That woman is full of surprises,” Kalei said.
“Yeah.”
Light nausea tickled Ron’s stomach, and his voice fell flat.
“She is.”
“Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Stroker?”
Ron snapped out of his trance, blinking and sitting up in the chair.
“Um, no. Thank you. I...”
He looked out the window.
“I’m gonna go for a walk.”
Kalei cocked an eyebrow, putting on a plastic smile.
“Ok. Have a good day, Mr. Stroker.”
Ron waved a limp hand and stepped into the lobby, holding the envelope at his side. Everything came out exactly how he wanted. Jessica got the exposure and public condemnation that he hoped she would. The money was his. The plans he had for a new life could now become a reality. And yet, Ron Stroker felt hollow.
He stepped out into the sunlight. A resort gardener dug their hands into the mulch around a flower bed in front of the office.
“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Ron said.
They looked up at him, wincing as they smiled, and their skin gathered into hard wrinkles around their mouth.
“You don’t speak English, do you?”
The gardener continued to smile and nodded their head.
Nope, they don’t, he thought.
He sighed, and his chest ached as though his heart hung out of it. His feet dragged across the ground, and he wandered the island for what seemed hours. No one spoke to him. They appeared to avoid him. After what happened, who would want to talk to him? His wandering brought him to the edge of the steps leading from the green down to the beach. He placed a hand on the rail, and a tear formed in his eye. The memory of Jessica taking off her bikini and parading down those steps naked flooded his mind. His heartbeat picked up, which only caused the ache to worsen. He followed the memory of Jessica down to the sand, to the spot she seduced him into having sex with her. Sex on the beach. One of a hundred crazy things he would never have done without her. He hung his head and heaved out a heavy breath. And whispered to the space around him.
“But with her, I was free.”
